Green Thumb
by buddhabread
Summary: Iris was never any good at gardening, but sometimes the strangest things can bring two people together.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own D9. I would gladly have Mr. Copley's babies, however.

Not my first fanfic by any means, but my first D9 fanfic definitely... If I get anything wrong about the aliens and their culture, anatomy, Joburg/S. Africa, or even MNU policy junk, do let me know? This first chapter is just me testing the water. Not much alien fun going on here, but it will come, children, it will come. I'll write more even if you hate it because I fokkin addicted, but I do enjoy constructive criticism and comments :) Set four or five years before D9 the movie.

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Iris clucked sadly at her wilting baby petunias. She'd always liked the flowers, they spread well, and in Missouri they had flourished with a little water on the hot days.

She'd stiffly ignored the advice of her neighbors when living in Johannesburg. They'd tried to give her ideas, seeds, a woman even older than her had tried to give her cuttings of some loathsome succulent plant… But honestly, were petunias too much to ask for?

When she'd married Henry, her third marriage, she'd been forty-four years old. He hadn't been a hale man, already sixty when they married, and he'd promptly died seven months later, just after he'd convinced her to move back to his home town with him. Fortunately his older brother, a diamond trader who had no other living relations, had the good grace to kick the bucket shortly after of the same heart problem, willing her enough money to live comfortably in South Africa for the rest of her life.

She did not plan to marry again. Henry died four years ago to the day, and the forty-eight year old woman was quite done with romance. She was done with most everything, in fact, and had moved away from the busier parts of Johannesburg to a 'neighborhood' made up of sprawling lots, though her house was small. The whole place had beautiful eucalyptus and pine trees completely obscuring her home from the prying eyes of passerby, which suited her just fine.

Not to say that Iris was an inactive person. She enjoyed puzzles and spent many a day casually studying linguistics. She'd never gone to college, in fact had barely finished high school, but in her mid twenties she'd begun to enjoy studying _people_ more.

When the prawns came.

She'd been fascinated, had almost been whipped into the euphoria and excitement of the masses, but she'd quietly held back her hopes until they'd opened the ship. When the disappointment crushed most everyone else, she'd begun a new chapter in her life. She'd even made it her business to learn the language when it had been deciphered. She had pretended to be a college student and snuck into almost every class offered for several semesters, excepting the test days… though she'd gotten rusty in the last decade or so.

Iris slowly emptied her watering can (again!) over the unhappy flowers, talking to them quietly in hopes that they'd somehow learn to _like_ Joburg.

Maybe if they learned how, she would too.

Iris shrugged and stumped away from the flowerbed, clucking to her old dog Digger. He staggered up on all fours and stumped along faithfully behind her. His once perpetually jubilant face, now mostly white with age, was pulled back in a slight grimace. He didn't have much time left, she speculated. Poor old fellow.

She let the old dog into her comfortable air-conditioned home and followed, adjusting the old bandana that kept her hair from sticking to her sweaty forehead. She looked at the calendar in bemusement: October. She had yet to adjust to 'Christmas in July' as it were.

She heard a scratching at the kitchen window, the one where her petunias were supposed to be growing. A yellow tomcat looked in at her, his green eyes wide and pleading.

_Feed me!_ His meow begged.

She sighed good-naturedly and grabbed a couple of cans from the cupboard, wincing at the slight pain in her knee as she bent down. She'd tripped over Digger the week before, and it still ached.

The cheery lime green plate outside was picked clean from previous feedings. The yellow tom was joined by seven or eight other cats of many colors, all meowing and weaving between her legs as she tried to empty the cans onto their plate. They immediately attacked the moist food once it hit the plate with a plop, and she retreated to the safety of her home, behind the screen door.

She was concerned about one of the kittens. Its eye looked infected. She might need to take it to a vet.

She was considering the cost of getting them all fixed before their numbers grew again when there was a yowl and several shrieking hisses. She looked up, expecting to see a new cat or even a dog, when to her shock a spiny brown creature was crouched on the ground, holding the green plate to its face.

A prawn.

It slurped at the plate hungrily until she touched the handle of the screen door and pressed down. The creak of the door swinging open startled it and it dropped the heavy ceramic plate, which broke into to two large pieces.

It stared at her, its posture quite terrified. It was small for a prawn, actually, no bigger than a ten or twelve year old. It was mostly a dull greenish brown.

"Hello, there," she said slowly.

It stared at her until Digger shoved past Iris's legs roughly, letting lose a vicious bark. The small prawn gave a terrified click and bolted away into the cover of her trees.

Digger seemed to consider chasing it for a moment, going so far as the bottom step of the little porch, but thought better of it and turned back to make sure his mistress was all right.

Iris absently stroked the old dog's forehead, playing with his floppy ears.

How did a prawn make it all the way out there?

She knew he came back, because now and again she found his strange tracks in the dusty side yard. It was another place she couldn't get anything to grow, not even the 'magic grass' she bought off of the infomercial. For somebody who loved plants, Iris sure killed a lot of greenery.

One day, while watering her still utterly miserably petunias, she felt something watching her. She didn't drop her watering can or scream, just slowly turned her head to the right.

There under the dusty green cover of a pine tree sat the prawn. It very nearly matched the dry looking tree, probably why it had chosen it for cover. It drew back into the shadows, rustling the branches.

"No, No!" she said softly. "Wait!"

She didn't hear anything for a long time, until slowly, _slowly _the light dried-algae colored face reappeared from the branches. It was across the yard, a safe distance away, but she could see its eyes dart from her face the watering can.

"Are you thirsty?" She asked maternally. She'd never had children, but she had watched her brother's two kids for nearly three months and saw them often back when she lived in Missouri, so she sort of understood the look in its strange insectoid face.

She barely caught the clicks from the prawn, it spoke so softly. "_Yes_."

"Alright, little fellow, let me get you some better water. The stuff in this can has things that are good for the plants, but bad for us."

She set the can on the edge of the planter and meandered inside, trying not to alert the heavily sleeping Digger where he rested on the porch. She filled up a pink plastic pitcher with water from the faucet, then again casually went back out again. She strolled to the middle of her sparsely grown yard and held out the pitcher.

"Come here, fellow. I'm not coming under there."

"_Just leave it on the ground."_

She was pleased with how much she remembered of the language, but she snorted quietly just the same. Digger. She lowered the can to the ground. Her knee ached only slightly, thankfully, and she retreated back to the porch.

She'd only just turned around when the greenish fellow had snatched up the pitcher, holding it to its tentacled mouth and downing the water so rapidly she was afraid it would get sick. No matter though, she'd just get it more water.

In a shockingly short time the pitcher was emptied. The prawn shook it over its head for the last drops, then looked at her sheepishly. It crouched low and set the pitcher on the ground.

"_Thank you,"_ it clicked quietly.

"No, thank _you_. Are you hungry?"

The creature had began to straighten and turn back the way it come, but first its antennae and then the rest of it swiveled back to her, giving it all of its attention. She could see the hope and suspicion and _hunger_ warring in the poor creature's eyes.

"_Yes,_" it finally said. She wished it would speak a little more loudly, she was no spring chicken after all, and those years working the factory in her thirties hadn't done her hearing any favors…

"Alright. Wait here. If the dog wakes up, feel free to jump on the truck," she said, gesturing to the little white pickup that had once belonged to Henry. The prawn nodded understanding, so she went inside to figure out what she could feed the thing.

She'd give it some cat food of course, but surely something different would be good for it too. She considered making it a sandwich, but without knowing if the creature would even eat the bread she decided to simply bring out the pack of lunchmeat and a few hot dogs she hastily warmed in the microwave. She brought it all out on a plate, and when the prawn's eyes lit on it she could've sworn some sort of dark saliva dripped from its mouthparts.

She approached the prawn, who crouched in the lawn, until he started to look on the verge of bolting. She awkwardly lowered herself to the ground and set the plate in front of her, smiling at the creature as it looked fearfully from her to the plate and back.

"Go on, fellow. I'm an old woman and a gardener. I won't hurt you, poor thing."

With achingly deliberate movements the prawn inched closer, closer, until he could just hook the edge of the plate with his long fingers and drag it close to him. They sat only a few feet apart.

She smiled as she mused on why she'd suddenly decided to call it a 'him.' They were hermaphrodites, after all.

When he was finished, which took an astonishingly short time, she smiled at his nervous glance up at her.

"_Thank you,_" he said, as quietly as ever. "_I need to go now._"

"Alright, fellow. Before you leave, what's your name?"

He started to say something, then stopped in frustration and instead found a patch of bare dirt in the grass to scribble in, then jumped to his feet and ran away like a gazelle just as Digger roused himself from sleep with a coughing snarl.

Iris leaned over until she could read the name in the dust: LUKE.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own D9, but I would gladly have Mr. Copley's babies.

Lots of Luke from here on out. Thanks for the favs and alerts, and a special thanks to SanguineSky for reviewing my boring first chapter :)

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Iris took her calcium supplement with a grimace. It was supposed to taste like chocolate, but she really wasn't impressed. She'd tried plenty of different ways, the drink mixes, getting it straight from vegetables and plants and the vile chews that were supposed to taste like candy. Though it never really seemed to help, she kept at it. She'd just drink more milk.

The prawn, Luke, came back a few days after that first encounter, but they hadn't spoken again. She'd just leave the pitcher and a plate of meat out by the pine tree. It was always gone within the hour. For that reason, she began to suspect the he might actually be _living_ somewhere in the thick trees.

The butcher questioned her sudden interest in lots of meat, and she told him that she was having trouble getting old Digger to eat. She'd talked to the kind younger man about dogs for a good half hour, but she'd satisfactorily thrown him off of any possible suspicions. Not that someone would suspect a nearly fifty-year-old white woman of prawn sympathizing, _especially_ this far from District 9.

Luke hadn't been able to contain his joyous exclamations when he tried the steak she'd grilled. He'd watched her cook it, had even edged all the way to the truck as Digger glared at him with disdain from the porch. The old dog was growing accustomed to the prawn, even if he didn't trust him.

Iris had gotten a strange sort of delight from watching Luke eat. He didn't talk much, too afraid, but he was always cautious and respectful and polite. Even his size seemed to apologize for what he was. He was small for a prawn, like she'd noticed before, but Iris was short for a grown woman, and so the 'little' fellow was actually quite close to her own height.

Despite the absolute insanity of it, Iris did not report Luke. He was a good little boy… He was quiet, and he always said thank you. She even felt a little safer knowing he was nearby, even though she didn't live in a bad part of town. She found she liked the company, and apparently he liked hers. He slowly came out of the trees more and more.

One day in November, Iris was nearly in tears. Her petunias were all but dead. Luke had been hanging around the car eying the tires he was too well mannered to eat when he saw her face screwing up slightly. He got up and slowly went to stand at the other end of the planter.

"_What's wrong?_" he asked.

"Oh… nothing, Luke. My flowers are dying, that's all."

He made a gesture that almost seemed the equivalent of a shrug. "_Things die._"

She held up her hands. "I know, fellow. But if I could, I'd save them."

"_Maybe they are weak. The strong survive._"

"Yes, but… well, I like them. That's all. They remind me of my… the remind me of home."

Luke clicked nonsensically to himself a while, slowly walking next to her and crouching to look at the dying flowers with Iris. "_The MNU men, they like to say, 'if at first they do not bleed try, try again.' Mostly when they're beating someone._"

She translated what he was saying to English and frowned angrily. "That's not the way it should go, dear. Those MNU are the scum of the Earth. It should be 'If at first you don't _succeed_ try, try again."

Luke's labial palps twitched around his tentacles for a bit, then stilled before he tentatively clicked, "_I wish more humans would be like you."_

Iris reached up and tentatively patted the dusty green shoulder of the prawn, who flinched but didn't jerk away completely. "Sometimes," she began slowly, "everyone who wants to do the right thing can't. There are lots of humans who want to help you prawns, but… We can't, because MNU controls everything."

Luke nodded as if this was an understood fact of life and changed the subject. "_Other plants can grow here. Why not grow them?"_

Iris sighed under the yellow gaze of the young prawn, drawing her hand back from his shoulder to turn over the dirt in the planter a little. "I'm a stubborn old woman, Luke. We don't like change."

Luke made a funny snort, then reached out to stroke the wrinkled leaves of one of the little petunias. "_You say you are old, but you are not gray, and you don't walk with sticks._"

She chuckled a little at that. "True, I'm not so old… but age affects some people differently. I… won't last as long as some people."

Luke stared at her strangely, trying to understand what she could be saying, then decided not to press it. If she wanted to tell, she would tell, and he didn't want to risk angering this otherwise abnormally friendly human.

"_Would you be happy if these flowers grew?_" He asked, wincing when the leaf he was fondling fell off from the stalk.

"Oh, yes… but they're past the point of no return, now." She laughed sadly. "Maybe I should just grow something else. It's not to late in the season to get something nice growing… Here, Luke, come inside and help me pick something nice."

Iris struggled to her feet, envying the ease with which Luke flowed to a stand. She started to head towards the house until she realized Luke wasn't following her. She turned back. "Come on now, son."

His eyes widened. "_Son?_"

She laughed. "Don't worry, I won't kidnap you, dear. It's only a friendly way of talking to people that are younger than you."

He looked down quickly, and his alien expression almost looked… disappointed? Really, she'd need to get the poor thing to talk about why he'd run away from District 9 soon.

Luke trotted after her, edging cautiously around the curmudgeonly canine sitting stiffly on the porch. He hesitated at the door. "_Are you sure? I don't want to break the rules."_

Iris laughed from the kitchen sink, where she was filling a couple of glasses of water. "It's my house, so they're my rules. I say you're allowed. Come on in, dear."

Luke edged into the house, jumped away from the propped door when Digger took this as his cue to stump his way inside. The dog growled only a little before hitching his way to his doggy bed in the living room.

"Close the door, please?" Iris asked, simply to see if the prawn would. He did without comment.

"Thanks, Luke. Here, have some water." She offered the glass to the prawn, another experiment. She wanted to see how he managed with it.

He didn't seem to have any trouble drinking from the glass, though he guzzled it as quickly as ever. He looked at her sheepishly as she sipped at her own in amusement.

"_May I please have some more?_"

She nodded. "Of course. You know where the sink is. When you're thirsty feel free to come in and get a drink."

Luke shivered, looking at her in mixed awe and suspicion. "_Really? You mean it?_"

"Of course. I'll leave a key under a rock by the flowerbed, that way even if I'm asleep or I'm not home you can come in."

A thought suddenly struck Iris, a taboo and probably dangerous idea, but she'd never been much to worry about convention. Even less so as she aged.

"Luke, if I said you could sleep here, in the house… Would you?"

Luke dropped his glass in the sink and she heard pieces break off and tinkle around.

"_I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_ he exclaimed, backing away from the sink and hugging himself, hanging his head low.

"Shh, shh now. It's only a glass. I have plenty. Here, get me the little hand broom from that closet? Yes, there."

While she picked out the bigger pieces of glass and set them on a paper towel Luke fetched the little broom, which had a dustpan attached. He handed it to her and backed away quickly, as if afraid she'd change her mind and try to hit him with it. In only a minute or so the glass was swept up and put safely in the trash.

"There, no harm done, Luke." She put the brush back in the closet then turned back to the prawn. "Did I offend you, dear?"

Luke looked up at her and back down. "_No."_

"You were surprised?"

He nodded.

"I meant it, dear. You're a sweet boy, and it's nice to have the company. I don't have any friends, you know, since I'm such a grumpy old woman."

"_You're not grumpy,_" Luke clicked softly.

She laughed. "Maybe because I like you, little fellow. I've got a guest room, it's only a twin bed, but you should fit it just fine. You'll have to take a bath first."

Luke trembled. "_I don't like to get clean._ _It's so cold, it makes my plates hurt."_

Iris frowned, clucking to herself. "I have hot water, dear, and a warm bath is probably one of the nicest things in the world. Here, while I get my old dinosaur of a computer running why don't we get a bath going for you?"

She headed out for the bathroom without waiting to see if the prawn would protest. She knew he was too used to being submissive to refuse, but that he'd also _love it_, so she didn't mind bullying him.

It was a large tub and there was a separate standing shower. The bathroom was about the only place in the house she'd allowed herself to splurge on the money she'd been willed. She got the water going, settling on a nice warm temperature, but not so hot that it might cook Luke like a lobster. She turned to the prawn standing nervously in the doorway and realized he didn't have any clothes to take off, but she didn't mention it. She'd just buy something for him the next time she went out.

"I'll give you some privacy dear. The green bottle is the soap, use as much as you want. I can always get more. I mean it, use it all if you need to. If the water gets dirty before you're done just drain it and refill it."

"_Thank you_," Luke whispered, so much alien emotion bleeding into the impersonal clicks that she very nearly teared up.

"You came to me for a reason, darling, and as long as you stay here with me, you don't need to thank me. These are things you deserved all along." She left the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She'd barely gotten three feet down the hallway when she heard a soft splash and trill of pure bliss from behind the bathroom door. Her heart swelled, and she swore to herself that she would protect the abused prawn for as long as she could.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the favs and alerts and a **huge** thanks to altern, Silvermoonlight GJ and SanguineSky for reviewing :) This is definitely aiming to be a sad fic :(

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Luke Borden ducked his head under the warm water, reveling in the overall feeling of warmth and weightlessness. The air sacs in his joints made them float slightly, so he gleefully let them rise to the top of the water. He rose with them after a minute, shaking his head to get rid of some of the water.

He looked down with a grimace. The water was already turning a dark brown just from the loose dust he'd been carrying, not to mention all the stiff grime… The dark haired woman had said he could refill it if it got very dirty… Still, he would wash first, and maybe rinse off the second go around.

The green soap smelled like fruit, but when he tasted it he regretted it. Definitely not for eating. He pulled the pretty rag off the rack near the tub and used it to lather the soap and to start working at the tougher grime.

How he had found a human that would actually let him use her things, he would never know. Luke wasn't one to 'look a gift horse in the mouth' and so he decided that as long as the human female let him stay, he would stay. He would try to help and stay out of her way, but the lure of food and clean water and _baths_ was simply irresistible.

Besides, he'd been living in the trees near her house for nearly a month now and she hadn't reported him. She said she liked him, she wasn't repulsed by him, she never screamed when she looked at him… She called him son.

Luke sank down into the water up to his mouth, resisting the urge to take in gulps of dirty, soapy water. His parents were both gone. His mother, the one who had contributed his egg, had died when he was too small to remember. His father had died just a year ago. Luke missed him desperately. Bill, his father, had been green. His mother was yellow and spiky, a guard class… A real guard, not just painted like so many of the brown workers. The combination had left Luke sort of in between, not quite green, not quite yellow… And with little spikes. Not like the ones he saw on the fully-grown guards, but still, his father had none at all.

His father was a 'thinker' and it had become apparent early on that Luke would take after him rather than his mother.

His 'bad breeding' as some of the other Poleepkwa called it had made it difficult to find friends with anyone but other class-breaker offspring. They weren't very smart, most of them, the products of workers and soldiers or guards, or worse yet soldiers bred to guards. Being second and third generation without the benefit of a careful mind or tempering leadership made them a little vicious.

So Luke had gathered his courage and his meager food supply and run away in the night. That was months ago. Living was hard, but by scrounging from garbage cans and drinking from hoses outside he'd survived. In regards to food, life was better… But the danger was much, much greater.

Which was why the human woman was such a shocking blessing. She would be his friend and she would protect him from the other humans, or at least that was what he hoped.

Luke came out of the bath nearly an hour later. He refilled it twice, and secretly Iris wasn't looking forward to scrubbing the tub afterwards. He must have been even more filthy than he looked.

He was still pretty wet, but Iris would show him where the towels were next time. He came to where she sat in front of the computer.

"_Those have nice colors,"_ he said slowly.

She looked at the forget-me-nots critically. "Blue is a nice color, but I was hoping for something red or yellow, or pink… Plus, we should really plant something that's impossible to kill. If I can't make petunias grow I'm in a real bind."

"_I just want to help,"_ Luke clicked. "_Whatever you pick, I'll help you put it in the dirt."_

Iris swiveled her chair around to smile at Luke but gasped instead.

Luke jerked away several steps as if he were afraid the bubble had burst.

"Luke, you're beautiful!"

His antennae swept wildly and he looked horribly confused, but it was the truth. His color had been hiding under all that dust, but in some places he was more golden brown, like the edges of his plates and underbelly and on the little spikes on his head and arms. The rest was a light earthy green.

"_I'm a mixed class,_" he said nervously. "_We aren't supposed to mix classes, and I guess before we came here it never ever happened… The others don't like me."_

Iris clucked. "There are no other prawns here, darling, but I think you look lovely."

They quickly dropped his appearance, as it seemed to bother him so much. After a while Iris gave up on looking through all the flowers and let Luke use the computer after teaching him how to point and click. Every now and then she peeked over his shoulder, but he was always looking at some flower or other.

Eventually he moved onto caring for them, learning words… That first time, he was online for hours, but Iris didn't have the heart to tear him away until dinnertime. She made a casserole and could only hope the prawn liked it.

_Oh_ did Luke like the casserole. He ate half the big pan before Iris had finished her first plate, and had that adorably sheepish expession when he realized how fast he'd eaten.

"_I'm sorry_," he said, wiping some bits of tuna off his face. "_I just can't help it."_

"It's fine, Luke. You've never had a good meal in your life, have you? If you eat like you're hungry I understand. Besides, you've got growing to do, eh?"

He nodded. He hoped to be as big as his mother, but he rather expected to be on the shorter side like his father. Still, much bigger than this kind-hearted human.

He _very_ much wanted to eat the rest of the casserole right away, and something in the woman's expression made him think she'd let him… but his stomach really was full. Instead, he tore his eyes away from the inviting glass dish and looked at the woman. He realized suddenly that she'd given him a little metal thing to eat with like hers, but he'd been too hungry to even think about what it was for. He would use it next time.

His reaction to that thought nearly sent him into fits. _Next time._ He could be certain that she would give him food again, tomorrow… He didn't have to go to bed hungry as long as she didn't change her mind.

_She _had to have a name. He'd never asked.

"_Everything you are letting me do… I don't know how to ever repay you. But I would like to know your name._"

She looked delighted. "Iris. My name's Iris."

"_Thank you."_

_"_And… you don't have to pay me back, Luke. Just keep me company and we'll consider it even."

When Iris showed Luke his bed she took nothing less than perfect satisfaction in watching him writhe on the mattress that she'd always considered hard and unpleasant. The trills vibrating out of the young prawn's mouth made her sinuses itch, and she couldn't help the laugh that escaped her when he lifted the pillow and threw it into the air just to catch it and bury his face it in. He was only a child, but the expression he usually wore bore the suffering of a much older sorrow.

She made it a point to get him things she thought he'd like on her next trip: a down pillow and quilt, a blue jacket and dark jeans she was sure they'd need to tear up for him to wear, a gob of silly toys, a simple board game they could play together, paint sets and novels for young adults… She didn't know what he would like, so she tried to get a little of everything.

The clerk simply winked and said something about lucky grandchildren.

Luke very quickly caught on to domestic life. He started washing the dishes without her asking, he always made his bed after he caught a peek of how orderly Iris kept hers, he started using the toilet after she showed him how it worked, he showered daily, he wore his jacket, which he kept zipped up the collar, and the pants, which had indeed been cut off and shredded a bit to suit his alien frame. The jacket only needed to be split at the shoulder a bit to accommodate his spikes.

She bought lots of movies for him, usually the ones that weren't about humans. She eventually subscribed to an online rental service so that he could pick his own, which he did with unrestrained pleasure. The longer Luke stayed with Iris, the more he began to open up, and the happier he became.

Getting the portulaca and planting it had been an adventure, to say the least. Luke had gotten dirty much more quickly than logic dictated, but he seemed to enjoy digging his fingers in the cool earth so much that she couldn't complain. It was only a little dirt. Iris didn't like the fleshy leaved flowers, but they delighted Luke, so she tolerated them. She planted red, yellow and pink... She even bought forget-me-not seeds to put in a pot, just to see if they'd grow for Luke. He tended to them every day, even though the portulaca were fairly low maintenance. Iris was quite resentful of their success in the flowerbed. The first day the seedlings sprouted on the paper towel in the window, Luke was so wild with excitement that she let him plant them outside the next day.

In about a month he was four inches taller than Iris.

When she noticed, she burst out laughing.

"_What's so funny?"_ he asked incredulously.

"You're getting big so… so _fast_, dear!"

The young Poleepkwa didn't believe her for a moment, then realized he was in fact looking down at Iris. He squawked in surprise and hunched a little.

Iris had none of it, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him upright again. "Be proud," she said sternly. "You're going to grow up and be a fine prawn, dear. It's probably all the good food and shelter letting you grow so fast, so don't go insulting my hospitality by getting embarrassed over a few inches." She smiled warmly, reached up and patted the yellow fringed cheek of the young alien and then turned back to the kitchen stove.

Luke thought about hugging Iris, but instead only hugged himself. He was really starting to love Iris. Not even his father had been so kind… Life had been too hard. Wasn't his fault… But Iris was the mother he never had.

He stood there aimlessly for a minute then looked around for something to do. The vegetables were waiting to be chopped up, so he picked up the sharp knife and started to take care of them. They hadn't been allowed regular knives in the District, though plenty had put together shivs out of garbage.

Luke rather liked tomatoes, but most other vegetables he ate only to satisfy Iris. She always gave him mostly meat anyway, so it wasn't like she was trying to turn him into a rabbit.

He was just starting on the potatoes when someone knocked at the door. Iris nearly tipped the pot she was stirring, and Luke managed to cut himself, albeit only a surface wound. Digger got up from his doggy bed with some effort and let out a thunderous bark.

Iris looked at Luke sharply. "Get in your room and hide in the closet behind the coats."

Luke took off quickly, avoiding the hall where the front door looked in. He was just shutting the door to the closet when he heard Iris talking to another human. He strained his senses to make out what they were saying.

"Iris Wickham?"

"Yes. Digger, get back!" The old dog was snarling angrily at the strange human, a female.

"I'm Joanna Yambi from Netcare Linmed Hospital. You haven't been returning our calls or our letters, so I'm here to make sure you're aware of how serious-"

"I'm aware," Iris snapped with anger that Luke had never heard from her before. "If I wanted treatment I'd go get it, don't you think?"

"Mrs. Wickham, you can't possibly plan on… you'd only have a couple of years at best."

Iris was silent for a long time. "Just go. I'll call the office if I change my mind."

"The sooner you call, the better chance you have, Mrs. Wickham. I _urge_ you to explore your options. We can refer you to the best-"

"Of course. Thank you. Goodbye."

The door shut with a click, and the irritated Digger finally eased off with his constant growling. In a few minutes Iris came to the closet and opened the door.

"You can come out now, Luke. Just stay away from the windows."

Luke slid out of the closet carefully, trying to get the human to look at him but failing. She was avoiding him.

"_You're sick,"_ he accused.

"Don't worry yourself, Luke. I'm not sick."

"_Yes, you are. The human said you only have a couple of years left._"

She finally looked up at him and sighed. "You heard?"

He only nodded seriously.

"When I'm ready to get treatment I'll get it. Not because somebody made me."

Luke clenched his fists for a minute then stalked from his room. If not for the hateful MNU laws he would pick her up and carry her to a human hospital himself.


End file.
